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6.
Willy and I walked up and down the crowds outside Kensington Palace, smiling, shaking hands.
As if we were running for office. Hundreds and hundreds of hands were thrust continually into ourfaces, the fingers often wet.
From what? I wondered.
Tears, I realized.
I disliked how those hands felt. More, I hated how they made me feel. Guilty. Why were allthese people crying when I wasn’t—and hadn’t?
I wanted to cry, and I’d tried to, because Mummy’s life had been so sad that she’d felt the needto disappear, to invent this massive charade1. But I couldn’t squeeze out one drop. Maybe I’dlearned too well, absorbed too deeply, the ethos of the family, that crying wasn’t an option—ever.
I remember the mounds2 of flowers all around us. I remember feeling unspeakable sorrow andyet being unfailingly polite. I remember old ladies saying: Oh, my, how polite, the poor boy! Iremember muttering thanks, over and over, thank you for coming, thank you for saying that, thankyou for camping out here for several days. I remember consoling several folks who were prostrate,overcome, as if they knew Mummy, but also thinking: You didn’t, though. You act as if you did…but you didn’t know her.
That is…you don’t know her. Present tense.
After offering ourselves up to the crowds, we went inside Kensington Palace. We enteredthrough two big black doors, into Mummy’s apartment, went down a long corridor and into aroom off the left. There stood a large coffin3. Dark brown, English oak. Am I remembering orimagining that it was draped in…a Union Jack4?
That flag mesmerized5 me. Maybe because of my boyish war games. Maybe because of myprecocious patriotism7. Or maybe because I’d been hearing rumblings for days about the flag, theflag, the flag. That was all anyone could talk about. People were up in arms because the flag hadn’tbeen lowered to half-mast over Buckingham Palace. They didn’t care that the Royal Standardnever flew at half-mast, no matter what, that it flew when Granny was in residence, and didn’t flywhen she was away, full stop. They cared only about seeing some official show of mourning, andthey were enraged8 by its absence. That is, they were whipped into rage by the British papers,which were trying to deflect9 attention from their role in Mummy’s disappearance10. I recall oneheadline, addressed pointedly11 at Granny: Show Us You Care. How rich, coming from the samefiends who “cared” so much about Mummy that they chased her into a tunnel from which shenever emerged.
By now I’d overheard this “official” version of events: Paps chased Mummy through thestreets of Paris, then into a tunnel, where her Mercedes crashed into a wall or cement pillar, killingher, her friend, and the driver.
Standing13 before the flag- draped coffin, I asked myself: Is Mummy a patriot6? What doesMummy really think of Britain? Has anyone bothered to ask her?
When will I be able to ask her myself?
I can’t recollect14 anything the family said in that moment, to each other or to the coffin. I don’trecall a word that passed between me and Willy, though I do remember people around us saying“the boys” look “shell-shocked.” Nobody bothered to whisper, as if we were so shell-shocked thatwe’d gone deaf.
There was some discussion about the next day’s funeral. Per the latest plan, the coffin wouldbe pulled through the streets on a horse-drawn carriage by the King’s Troop while Willy and Ifollowed on foot. It seemed a lot to ask of two young boys. Several adults were aghast. Mummy’sbrother, Uncle Charles, raised hell. You can’t make these boys walk behind their mother’s coffin!
It’s barbaric.
An alternative plan was put forward. Willy would walk alone. He was fifteen, after all. Leavethe younger one out of it. Spare the Spare. This alternative plan was sent up the chain.
Back came the answer.
It must be both princes. To garner15 sympathy, presumably.
Uncle Charles was furious. But I wasn’t. I didn’t want Willy to undergo an ordeal16 like thatwithout me. Had the roles been reversed, he’d never have wanted me—indeed, allowed me—to goit alone.
So, come morning, bright and early, off we went, all together. Uncle Charles on my right,Willy to his right, followed by Grandpa. And on my left was Pa. I noted17 at the start how sereneGrandpa looked, as if this was merely another royal engagement. I could see his eyes, clearly,because he was gazing straight ahead. They all were. But I kept mine down on the road. So didWilly.
I remember feeling numb19. I remember clenching20 my fists. I remember keeping a fraction ofWilly always in the corner of my vision and drawing loads of strength from that. Most of all Iremember the sounds, the clinking bridles21 and clopping hooves of the six sweaty brown horses,the squeaking22 wheels of the gun carriage they were hauling. (A relic23 from the First World War,someone said, which seemed right, since Mummy, much as she loved peace, often seemed asoldier, whether she was warring against the paps or Pa.) I believe I’ll remember those few soundsfor the rest of my life, because they were such a sharp contrast to the otherwise all-encompassingsilence. There wasn’t one engine, one lorry, one bird. There wasn’t one human voice, which wasimpossible, because two million people lined the roads. The only hint that we were marchingthrough a canyon24 of humanity was the occasional wail25.
After twenty minutes we reached Westminster Abbey. We filed into a long pew. The funeralbegan with a series of readings and eulogies26, and culminated27 with Elton John. He rose slowly,stiffly, as if he was one of the great kings buried for centuries beneath the abbey, suddenly rousedback to life. He walked to the front, seated himself at a grand piano. Is there anyone who doesn’tknow that he sang “Candle in the Wind,” a version he’d reworked for Mummy? I can’t be sure thenotes in my head are from that moment or from clips I’ve seen since. Possibly they’re vestiges28 ofrecurring nightmares. But I do have one pure, indisputable memory of the song climaxing29 and myeyes starting to sting and tears nearly falling.
Nearly.
Towards the end of the service came Uncle Charles, who used his allotted30 time to blasteveryone—family, nation, press—for stalking Mummy to her death. You could feel the abbey, thenation outside, recoil31 from the blow. Truth hurts. Then eight Welsh Guards moved forward,hoisted the enormous lead- lined coffin, which was now draped in the Royal Standard, anextraordinary break with protocol32. (They’d also yielded to pressure and lowered the flag to half-mast; not the Royal Standard, of course, but the Union Jack — still, an unprecedentedcompromise.) The Royal Standard was always reserved for members of the Royal Family, which,I’d been told, Mummy wasn’t anymore. Did this mean she was forgiven? By Granny? Apparently33.
But these were questions I couldn’t quite formulate34, let alone ask an adult, as the coffin was slowlycarried outside and loaded into the back of a black hearse. After a long wait the hearse drove off,rolled steadily35 through London, which surged on all sides with the largest crowd that ageless cityhad ever seen—twice as large as the crowds that celebrated36 the end of the Second World War. Itwent past Buckingham Palace, up Park Lane, towards the outskirts37, over to the Finchley Road,then Hendon Way, then the Brent Cross flyover38, then the North Circular, then the M1 to Junction15a and northwards to Harlestone, before passing through the iron front gate of Uncle Charles’sestate.
Althorp.
Willy and I watched most of that car ride on TV. We were already at Althorp. We’d beenspeeded ahead, though it turned out there was no need to hurry. Not only did the hearse go thelong way round, it was delayed several times by all the people heaping flowers onto it, blockingthe vents12 and causing the engine to overheat. The driver had to keep pulling over so the bodyguardcould get out and clear the flowers off the windscreen. The bodyguard39 was Graham. Willy and Iliked him a lot. We always called him Crackers40, as in Graham Crackers. We thought that washysterical.
When the hearse finally got to Althorp the coffin was removed again and carried across thepond, over a green iron bridge hastily positioned by military engineers, to a little island, and thereit was placed upon a platform. Willy and I walked across the same bridge to the island. It wasreported that Mummy’s hands were folded across her chest and between them was placed a photoof me and Willy, possibly the only two men who ever truly loved her. Certainly the two who lovedher most. For all eternity41 we’d be smiling at her in the darkness, and maybe it was this image, asthe flag came off and the coffin descended42 to the bottom of the hole, that finally broke me. Mybody convulsed and my chin fell and I began to sob43 uncontrollably into my hands.
I felt ashamed of violating the family ethos, but I couldn’t hold it in any longer.
It’s OK, I reassured44 myself, it’s OK. There aren’t any cameras around.
Besides, I wasn’t crying because I believed my mother was in that hole. Or in that coffin. Ipromised myself I’d never believe that, no matter what anyone said.
No, I was crying at the mere18 idea.
It would just be so unbearably45 tragic46, I thought, if it was actually true.
1 charade | |
n.用动作等表演文字意义的字谜游戏 | |
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2 mounds | |
土堆,土丘( mound的名词复数 ); 一大堆 | |
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3 coffin | |
n.棺材,灵柩 | |
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4 jack | |
n.插座,千斤顶,男人;v.抬起,提醒,扛举;n.(Jake)杰克 | |
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5 mesmerized | |
v.使入迷( mesmerize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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6 patriot | |
n.爱国者,爱国主义者 | |
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7 patriotism | |
n.爱国精神,爱国心,爱国主义 | |
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8 enraged | |
使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 ); 歜; 激愤 | |
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9 deflect | |
v.(使)偏斜,(使)偏离,(使)转向 | |
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10 disappearance | |
n.消失,消散,失踪 | |
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11 pointedly | |
adv.尖地,明显地 | |
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12 vents | |
(气体、液体等进出的)孔、口( vent的名词复数 ); (鸟、鱼、爬行动物或小哺乳动物的)肛门; 大衣等的)衩口; 开衩 | |
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13 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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14 recollect | |
v.回忆,想起,记起,忆起,记得 | |
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15 garner | |
v.收藏;取得 | |
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16 ordeal | |
n.苦难经历,(尤指对品格、耐力的)严峻考验 | |
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17 noted | |
adj.著名的,知名的 | |
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18 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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19 numb | |
adj.麻木的,失去感觉的;v.使麻木 | |
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20 clenching | |
v.紧握,抓紧,咬紧( clench的现在分词 ) | |
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21 bridles | |
约束( bridle的名词复数 ); 限动器; 马笼头; 系带 | |
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22 squeaking | |
v.短促地尖叫( squeak的现在分词 );吱吱叫;告密;充当告密者 | |
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23 relic | |
n.神圣的遗物,遗迹,纪念物 | |
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24 canyon | |
n.峡谷,溪谷 | |
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25 wail | |
vt./vi.大声哀号,恸哭;呼啸,尖啸 | |
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26 eulogies | |
n.颂词,颂文( eulogy的名词复数 ) | |
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27 culminated | |
v.达到极点( culminate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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28 vestiges | |
残余部分( vestige的名词复数 ); 遗迹; 痕迹; 毫不 | |
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29 climaxing | |
vt.& vi.达到顶点(climax的现在分词形式) | |
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30 allotted | |
分配,拨给,摊派( allot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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31 recoil | |
vi.退却,退缩,畏缩 | |
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32 protocol | |
n.议定书,草约,会谈记录,外交礼节 | |
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33 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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34 formulate | |
v.用公式表示;规划;设计;系统地阐述 | |
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35 steadily | |
adv.稳定地;不变地;持续地 | |
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36 celebrated | |
adj.有名的,声誉卓著的 | |
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37 outskirts | |
n.郊外,郊区 | |
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38 flyover | |
n.立交桥,天桥 | |
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39 bodyguard | |
n.护卫,保镖 | |
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40 crackers | |
adj.精神错乱的,癫狂的n.爆竹( cracker的名词复数 );薄脆饼干;(认为)十分愉快的事;迷人的姑娘 | |
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41 eternity | |
n.不朽,来世;永恒,无穷 | |
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42 descended | |
a.为...后裔的,出身于...的 | |
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43 sob | |
n.空间轨道的轰炸机;呜咽,哭泣 | |
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44 reassured | |
adj.使消除疑虑的;使放心的v.再保证,恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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45 unbearably | |
adv.不能忍受地,无法容忍地;慌 | |
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46 tragic | |
adj.悲剧的,悲剧性的,悲惨的 | |
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